<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Try Some of That Life by Uratha</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203494">Try Some of That Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha'>Uratha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 10:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gave Sam the shield and went back to join Peggy, leaving the Falcon and the Winter Soldier to carry on the legacy of Captain America.  When the elderly Steve Rogers follows Peggy in death after a long life and Sam retires to start a life of his own, Bucky is left alone... or is he?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, past-Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Funeral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were some who thought Bucky might have been jealous when Steve chose Sam as his successor as Captain America.  They couldn’t have been more wrong.  It was a conversation the pair of them had actually had before Steve returned the Infinity Stones and stayed in the past with Peggy.  Steve explained what Erskine had said to him—why he had been chosen.</p><p>“Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing.  That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”</p><p>Erskine’s rationale made the choice clear, perhaps clearer to Bucky than to Steve himself.  James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who had been turned into the perfect soldier.  He wasn’t that man anymore, but he hoped he could be again.  He was trying, but as Natasha used to say (according to Steve), he had a lot of red on his ledger, and he needed to wipe it out.</p><p>He had some seventy years of red, and Bucky highly doubted that another hundred and seventy years could balance the books, but he kept on trying… he would die trying.  Partnering with Sam Wilson—a good man—he had done a lot.  The specter of the cолдат (“Soldat”) would haunt him forever, but they had made a difference.</p><p>Bucky wanted to keep making that difference, but Sam had found something.  He had found someone.  He was engaged, and he wanted to build a future with Leila Taylor.  Bucky couldn’t begrudge him that.  He’d never been jealous of the shield, but he was jealous of love.  Steve had Peggy, and now Sam had Leila.</p><p>Bucky had never been in love or had anyone who truly loved him that he recalled.  “What about that one dame from Rockaway Beach?” Had he said that aloud?</p><p>The question snapped him out of his reverie.  He smiled over at his oldest friend, now literally his oldest friend.  They sat in Central Park, playing checkers or chess, as they had done every day since Steve returned after going back to 1949.  “You mean Dot?” Bucky laughed.  “You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”</p><p>“You blew the money for our train tickets trying to win a stuffed bear, and we had to ride to Brooklyn in the back of a freezer truck!” Steve chuckled.</p><p>Bucky shrugged.  “Guess me going into cryo was payback,” he laughed.</p><p>Steve’s mirth was gone.  “Don’t do that, Buck.”</p><p>Bucky dismissed the discomfort at his own self-deprecation.  “Relax, Stevie, it’s just a joke.  I can make genuinely make light of it now.”</p><p>“Don’t,” Steve said again.  “You didn’t deserve it.  You’ve never deserved it, just like I didn’t deserve you.”</p><p>“Now who’s talking crazy?” Bucky frowned.  “Besides, Dot was my age.  Call me shallow, but I look good for my age.  Pretty sure I can do better.”</p><p>Steve shook his head.  “You definitely can.  You barely look in your 30s.”</p><p>Bucky guffawed at that one.  “You sweet talker, you.  You’re just jealous you don’t look as good at what?  110?” It was half-said in jest, but he was mildly serious.  He always had to do the math to figure out how old Steve actually was.</p><p>“Something like that,” Steve winked with a knowing smile.  “Checkmate.”</p><p>Bucky looked down at the board.  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, quickly looking up at his best friend and pointed his metal, if gloved, hand at him.  “Don’t say it.  You had your own potty-mouth moments in the later years.  This isn’t 1940 anymore.”</p><p>“No judgment,” Steve laughed, putting the pieces away into the bag he always brought with him.</p><p>Bucky stood and stretched.  He might not look his age, but he definitely felt it some days.  “Same time tomorrow?”</p><p>Steve nodded.  “And for the record, you’re wrong about one thing.  I’ve always loved you, Buck.  Anybody who’s ever known you can’t help but love you.”</p><p>Bucky smiled and embraced the “older” man in a tight hug.  “Love you, too, Stevie.” Escorting his friend to the subway, he watched as the train carried Steve away before ascending the stairs.  Bucky still had a young man’s vitality (not to mention that of a super-soldier) and opted to walk back to his own place.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>When Bucky arrived the next day, Steve wasn’t there waiting on him as usual.  New York public transit being what it was, that happened from time to time.  While he’d gotten far more accustomed to DC subways, trains, and buses, when Sam decided to hang up his wings, Bucky returned to the Big Apple full time (rather than just visiting Steve whenever he could).  For all its faults, this place was still home.</p><p>After half an hour, Bucky called Steve but got no answer.  He hoped the tunnels were blocking the signal, but he was starting to get nervous.  Checking the watch on his flesh-and-blood wrist several times, a panic started to grip him after an hour.  He spoke to the elderly African-American gentleman at a nearby table that he and Steve saw at least weekly (Bucky was drawing a blank as to the man’s name).  Bucky asked him to tell Steve to call him, then he left for Brooklyn.</p><p>When he got off the train, he walked… fast.  He was careful not to move too fast, but his fear was beginning to override his better judgment.  When he reached the tenement, he saw the fire department out front.  There was no fire, so he knew the truck dispatch was just protocol when accompanying ambulances.  He saw the ambulance, and his breath caught in his lungs.  He couldn’t inhale.  He couldn’t exhale.  He was paralyzed, watching a stretcher carrying a drape-covered body down the steps.</p><p>Finally, his legs moved of their own accord, almost as his arm once had.  He was full-on running.  Luckily, it was only a short distance, and he didn’t have a chance to reach full speed before he was at their side.  They tried to talk at him and pull his hand away, but in his fugue, he paid them no attention.  Instead, the metal arm gripped the sheet tightly and lifted it up just enough to see his worst fears realized.</p><p>A part of him knew this was an inevitable scenario, but another part of him—a selfish part of him—hoped that he would die on a mission so that he would never experience the pain he was feeling in this very moment.  That wouldn’t have been fair to Steve, but Bucky didn’t know how he could go on without him.</p><p>He crumpled to the sidewalk, crying as his chest heaved.  The paramedics spoke, but he couldn’t make out their words.  They tried to reach him, but he was inconsolable and remained in that position, transfixed, for hours.  The day turned into night, and he was utterly alone until a hand rested upon his shoulder where vibranium met flesh.  Dry sobs were all that was left, so his eyes were red and painfully swollen when he looked up at Sam.  “Let’s get you home, buddy.”</p><p>As soon as Sam had been notified, he flew up.  He slowly walked Bucky back to the latter’s own apartment.  He carefully began to peel the layers of clothes off Bucky, explaining to Bucky that he was soaking wet from a rain he didn’t even remember.  Sam guided him to the bathroom and filled the tub as the naked Winter Soldier sat on the edge, still as a statue.  Easing him into the water, Bucky was as empty as he had been during his time as the Fist of Hydra.  No, he wasn’t even that functional.</p><p>“I’m going to fix you something to eat,” Sam told him.  “Can you manage by yourself?”</p><p>Bucky said nothing, so Sam repeated.  When again, no response came, Sam called out, louder, “Soldier!”</p><p>That snapped Bucky to attention, though he wasn’t sure whether Sergeant Barnes or the Asset was the one who heard and acknowledged.  He nodded weakly, and Sam hesitantly left him to it.</p><p>Bucky was in there for what seemed like an eternity.  It wasn’t until the water had gone from steaming hot to lukewarm to room temperature to finally ice cold that he got out of the water.  He still hated the cold, even after all this time.  His hair, once again long, hung in his face as rivulets fell from it onto his shoulders and chest.  He didn’t bother drying it.  He wrapped a towel around his waist for Sam’s benefit, not his own, before moving to the bedroom where the Falcon was sitting with a bowl of hot soup and a bottle of water.</p><p>“I warmed it up in the microwave when I heard you get out,” Sam told him, not expecting—nor receiving—a response.</p><p>Sam placed the spoon in his hand.  “You gotta eat, man.  He would not want you suffering like this.”</p><p>After scooping two spoonfuls into his mouth, Bucky set the utensil aside.  “Thanks,” he offered perfunctorily.</p><p>Sam, realizing the futility, took the tray away and into the kitchen.  He washed the dishes in the sink and loaded them into the dishwasher.  He labeled the soup and set it on a shelf in the refrigerator.  Returning to the bedroom, he found Bucky still sitting in that same numb, unmoving position.  Shaking his head, he turned down the sheets and told his partner, “Попади под одеяло.”</p><p>Sam knew his Russian sucked, but he’d made a point to learn it years ago.  When Bucky tuned out, he needed someone to guide him.  Normally, Steve could do it, even in English, with a simple phone call.  When it got this bad, though, Bucky almost needed orders, and though Sam hated doing it, watching Bucky get under the covers as he’d been told made him breathe easier.  “Засыпай,” he told him.  Sleep now.</p><p>While Bucky slept, Sam prayed to whatever God that would listen to help him rest and wake up once more as his friend.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Sam’s prayers went largely unanswered for the first few days.  Bucky was essentially nonverbal, leaving the former to make the funeral arrangements.  The world believed that Steve Rogers died in 2023 in the battle with Thanos.  The Avengers both then and now knew that he had gone back into the Quantum Realm to return the Infinity Stones and never returned.  Sam and Bucky were the only ones who knew the truth—that after restoring them to their proper points in the timeline, he went to join Peggy.</p><p>Now it was time to let one more Avenger know.  Since Steve—the older Steve—made his presence known to his best friends, the world only knew him as Steve Grant.  To the world at large, he was just a World War II veteran who attended support meetings at the VA.  That was where, as the story went, he met Bucky and Sam.  The world had buried Captain America.  Now it was time for Bucky and Sam to bury Steve Rogers.</p><p>Steven Grant Rogers was buried, as far as the public knew, at Arlington National Cemetery.  Like the Unknowns, his tomb was guarded by the “Brave Rifles” of the 3<sup>rd</sup> U.S. Infantry Regiment.  Unlike the Unknowns, whose identities were lost to history while their bodies were interred, his body was considered lost.  Now that he was truly gone, Sam reached out to someone who could give him the final rest he deserved.</p><p>The bearer of the Time Stone was not happy with the alterations that had been made, but given that reality hadn’t come crashing down around them, he had little choice but to go along with the ruse.  He surmised, correctly, that the alteration that allowed Steve’s presence to not cause some sort of butterfly effect with his paradoxical dual existence had something to do with a final gift from Tony.  Had Steve and Tony talked about it?  It seemed likely, but neither Strange nor Sam knew for certain.</p><p>For all that Steve had done for the world as Captain America, the Sorcerer Supreme offered one final boon.  After a simple funeral attended by Bucky, Sam, and a few veterans and support group members from the VA, Strange teleported Steve’s remains to the empty coffin beneath his grave marker.  Sam made a promise to visit that grave regularly.  His first visit would be on the coming weekend, after he returned to DC and Leila.  But first, he had to make sure Bucky was okay.</p><p>“Why don’t you come back to Washington with me?” Sam asked him, the silence inside Bucky’s apartment almost suffocating.</p><p>Bucky gave him that patented half-smile, half-smirk.  The simplicity of the gesture reassured Sam that Bucky was himself, or at least closer than he had been in days.  “I’ve been a third wheel long enough.  You’re engaged to her, not me.  You’re not the Falcon anymore.  I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore.  I don’t need a partner.  I just need a friend to call and harass from time to time while we both try to get an actual life like Steve finally managed to get.”</p><p>Sam smiled with a nod, walking over to embrace Bucky in a hug.  “Harass away,” he smiled into the much older man’s neck.  Bucky held on tight for probably a moment or two longer than was absolutely necessary, but Sam didn’t seem to mind.</p><p>“Walk me down,” he told Bucky, who nodded in silent acquiescence.  They took the stairs down to the street, where Sam’s car was parked next to Bucky’s motorcycle.  Without a word, they hugged again.  “Don’t be a stranger.  Even if you won’t come for good, the spare room is always yours, you know?”</p><p>Bucky nodded.  “I know,” he smiled.  “And I appreciate it.  Really.  I’ll take you up on it, I promise.  Brooklyn is still the only home I’ve ever known.”</p><p>Sam shook his head, though silently, he disagreed.  Brooklyn hadn’t been home since 1943.  After that, home was wherever Steve was, and now that he was gone, Bucky felt adrift.  Perhaps that was why he’d talked about just driving around… seeing the country.  “You’re right, though.  I’m not the Falcon anymore, at least not full-time.  I’m hanging up more than the wings.” He reached into the trunk of his car, and pulled out a familiar disc-shaped case.  “You’re still the perfect soldier, but you’re a good man—a far better one than you give yourself credit for.  You should have it.”</p><p>The words… the Erskine’s words—Steve’s words—seemed somehow less heavy.  They weren’t a yoke that would drag him to the ground like the sins of his past.  They weren’t a legacy he needed to live up to.  The words, like the shield, weren’t so heavy as they once were.  He wasn’t Steve.  He wasn’t Sam.  He wasn’t sure he was going to be some costumed vigilante anymore.  He didn’t need a uniform to be Captain America.</p><p>“Thank you, Sam,” Bucky told him, trying to fight back the moisture stinging the corners of his eyes.</p><p>Sam understood, simply offering another nod before getting into his car and heading to the airport.</p><p>Bucky watched him drive away before looking down at the case.  He unzipped it, and pulled the shield from it.  He stared down at it, his flesh-and-blood fingers running reverently along the edge.  He hadn’t wanted it years ago when Steve left because he didn’t think he was worthy.  Now, he knew better.</p><p>He walked back up to his apartment.  He closed the door behind him, and as he began to turn the lock, he felt eyes on him—on the back of his neck.  He silently catalogued the locations of every weapon in his home.  It was strange.  In the years since he’d broken free from the Winter Soldier, his strength and speed had increased to levels ever more like Steve’s.  The cryogenic stasis hadn’t slowed his aging… the serum had.  The stasis was to slow his body.  His accelerated healing would repair the damage to his gray matter… to his memories.  The cold was to slow the regeneration.  The electricity was to wipe his mind.  Without those, he became the super-soldier he was meant to be, and he became Bucky Barnes again.</p><p>Seventy years of habit, though, were hard to break.  His first instinct was to grab a gun… a knife… anything.  None of the weapons he still kept stashed handy were readily available from his current position.  That was when he remembered.  He wasn’t completely unarmed after all.  Grabbing the shield with blinding speed, he hurled it behind him with a force that would knock a normal man unconscious.  He didn’t want to kill anyone.  Besides, he needed answers.</p><p>It turns out, he could have thrown it a bit harder.  Two hands clapped the top and bottom of the shield.  All-too-familiar blue eyes, blond hair, and “Dorito”-shaped physique stole his breath.  He looked only a few years older than he had when he went back to 1949.  He was standing there, in the flesh, smiling that smile and staring at Bucky like he could see into his very soul.</p><p>“Hey, Buck.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Explanation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Figuring out the how Steve is standing in front of Bucky, with just a bit of the why.  Steve's definitely holding something back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don’t understand,” Bucky confessed.</p>
<p>Steve smiled at him gently.  “I know, Buck.  For starters, though, I’m not a ghost or some figment of your imagination.  Which is a good thing; otherwise, you’d be hard-pressed to get your deposit back with a hole in the wall,” he told him, walking over to hand him back the shield.  “I carried this long enough.  This is yours now.”</p>
<p>Bucky looked blankly down at it, then back up at Steve.  It had to be Steve, right?  No normal human could have taken that throw like that.  A shapeshifter?  An android?  Something else in disguise?  He couldn’t believe his eyes.</p>
<p>Steve could see the doubt and confusion.  “I tried to find a spare key.  No brick to kick aside,” he told him.  He knew how to alleviate those fears.  “I’ll explain, but it may take a bit.  Wanna put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids?  It’ll be fun.  I’ll shine your shoes, maybe take out the trash.”</p>
<p>No one but Steve would have known about that conversation.  Bucky could barely breathe around the lump in his throat.  “Steve?” he asked, as though not trusting his voice or the word.</p>
<p>Steve nodded, and Bucky barreled into him.  Bucky hugged him tightly, sobbing into his shoulder as a cybernetic arm threatened to dislocate the other man’s enhanced shoulder.  Steve, for his part, said nothing.  He let Bucky get it all out. They stood there, just like that, for an indeterminate amount of time.</p>
<p>Finally, Bucky pulled away without releasing him.  He locked his hands on Steve’s forearms, unwilling to let him go for fear of losing him.  “I don’t understand,” Bucky repeated.</p>
<p>Steve nodded.  “I know, Buck,” he, too, repeated.  “Let’s sit down, and I’ll explain.”</p>
<p>Hesitantly and blankly, Bucky nodded, following as Steve led him to the couch.  “I thought you went back to Peggy.  Did you come back?”</p>
<p>“Impatient much?” Steve chuckled.  “Already asking questions without giving me a chance to start at the beginning.  Okay, then.  I went back, like I said, but no, I didn’t <em>come</em> back.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s brow furrowed in ever-growing confusion.  He started to ask yet another question, but he clamped his jaw shut, not letting the words pass from his lips.  The more he interjected, the longer the tale would take.  He wanted answers now.</p>
<p>“I didn’t come back,” Steve continued, “because I never left.  I went back, and I lived my life with Peggy.  We had two beautiful children and a great life together.”</p>
<p>Steve got lost in the memory for a moment before shaking it off.  He looked at Bucky.  “I’m afraid the end of the line is going to be a bit longer than we expected.  The serum’s regeneration slowed my aging to unbelievable degree.”</p>
<p>The gears in Bucky’s head kept spinning.  “So you went back, and you stayed.  This… you is the one that went back?  So you’re…?”</p>
<p>“I’m well over a hundred years young,” Steve smiled, guessing at the question that had gone unasked.</p>
<p>The answer did little to alleviate the confusion or subsequent questionings.  “But what about the Steve Rogers I’ve been meeting on a daily basis for years now?”</p>
<p>Steve smiled.  “An older me from the future.  He came back to the present.”</p>
<p>“But why wait till now to show up?  Why did he come back at all if you were already here?”</p>
<p>He shrugged, as if to say he didn’t know.  Bucky knew Steve well enough to know that he was holding back, and he said as much.  Reluctantly, Steve gave him an answer, albeit a rather cryptic one.  “Call it a journey of self-discovery.  I was figuring things out, with a little nudge from my future self.  Once I did, I needed to give you time to figure out how to fully be you again… without the shadow of the Winter Soldier plaguing your brain.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t an entirely satisfactory answer, but it was an answer, Bucky supposed.  “What about older him—I mean you?”</p>
<p>“He—or I, I guess—wanted to spend time with you,” Steve said, rather sheepishly.  “I can understand the sentiment.  I’ve missed you.  I know it’s only been a few years since you saw me, but it’s been like eighty since I saw you.”</p>
<p>By now, Bucky’s head was hurting trying to keep the timeline straight.  He didn’t know what had elicited the shade of embarrassment, but it did beg the latest in an endless stream of questions.  “So how did you know when to show up?”</p>
<p>“The older me told me when.  He is future me, remember?” Steve tried to sort out for him.  “Or rather, when he was me, he remembers when the old me from his memories died.  He told me when they buried me… him.  Time loop.  It’s best not to overthink it.”</p>
<p>By now, Bucky was so confused, he didn’t even know what to ask next.  “How is all of this not causing the timeline to implode on itself?” was the best he could come up with.</p>
<p>“Tony,” Steve said simply.  “It was a parting gift for me.  My presence with Peggy should have screwed things up on its own, never mind this.  There’s been two of me running around—well, or being a Popsicle—since 1949.  It’s like trying to wrap your head around Terminator.  Just don’t.  Saves on the migraines.”</p>
<p>Bucky quirked an eyebrow.  “And suddenly you’re an expert on pop culture?”</p>
<p>Steve chuckled.  “Much easier when you get the chance to actually live through it.”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s true,” Bucky admitted.  “So how did you know he was you?  Did he say the same thing to you that you did to me?”</p>
<p>“No,” Steve shook his head.  “That was more meaningful between us.  He told me something no one else knew… well, no one but Peggy.  It was something I didn’t learn until going back.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t offer additional details, so Bucky didn’t press.  It wasn’t in Steve’s nature to be that evasive with him, so he must have had his reasons.  It did not, however, stop Bucky from being curious.  “So what else did old you tell you?”</p>
<p>“Not much,” Steve replied without hesitation.  “He told me when he was going to die and be buried, but he wouldn’t tell me how old he was.    We talked a bit about a few things, mostly reminiscing, but whenever I would ask about the future, he just smiled.  It was kind of infuriating, to be honest.  Do I get under other people’s skin that much?”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled.  “You have no idea.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled back.  “I probably deserve that.”</p>
<p>“You do,” Bucky grinned.  “So now what?  You’re here, now.  Peggy’s gone.  You’ve given away the shield.  What’s next for Captain America?”</p>
<p>“That was Sam, and now it’s you.  I’m just Steve,” the blond corrected.  “Actually, I hear you’re planning on doing your best Kerouac impression.  Thought maybe you’d like some company.”</p>
<p>Bucky raised a brow in scrutiny.  “Going to walk the earth, meet people… get into adventures.  Like Kane in ‘Kung Fu?’”</p>
<p>Steve smirked “Or be a bum.”</p>
<p>“<em>Pulp Fiction</em>,” Bucky remarked.  “I’m impressed.”</p>
<p>“What?” Steve shrugged.  “Captain America can’t be a Tarantino fan?”</p>
<p>Bucky smirked back.  “Captain America is.  I’ve got the shield, remember?  I was asking about Steve.”</p>
<p>“Fair point,” Steve smiled.  “So what do you say, Buck?  Want me to come with?”</p>
<p>The former Winter Soldier smiled.  “Till the end of the line.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A short chapter, and after editing, I realized I probably should have just combined chapters 1 and 2, but alas, my hindsight is far better than anything else.  This chapter finishes the initial set-up, but to clarify, this story isn't about Bucky taking up the mantle of Captain America.  This is a story about Steve and Bucky and their relationship--where it is now, and where it winds up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. New York</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The "road trip" begins very close to home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky just stared at Steve in disbelief as the blond man loaded a bag into the car.  Steve had a classic convertible… because of course he did.  When Bucky had contemplated this great American journey, he’d envisioned it on his motorcycle.  That was more than a bit impractical with the two of them.  Besides, now he was too flabbergasted to worry about such meaningless trivialities as being practical.  He felt like he was in a daze—stuck in a dream that he didn’t want to wake from.</p><p>“What?” Steve smiled, realizing Bucky’s eyes were fixed upon him.  Bucky’s cheeks flushed with a burning red, and he ducked his head awkwardly.  He finally managed a meager answer to the question.  “I just can’t believe you’re here.”</p><p>Steve nodded, but he didn’t laugh.  “I know, pal.  I’ve waited a long time for this moment, and I can hardly believe it’s here... finally,” he confessed.  “I have wished things could have been different—for you—for so long.  I wish I could have come to rescue you sooner… to stop you from being used… from being haunted by the ghosts of those they forced you to kill, but ….”</p><p>“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, “you’re talking to the sci-fi nerd of the two of us, remember?  I know about the butterfly effect.  I know how many ripples and paradoxes and chain reactions you would have caused if we had come back together at any place and at any time before we did when Pierce sent me to kill you.  The fact that you were able to not unravel all of this and go back to Peggy is a small mercy.”</p><p>Steve nodded once more.  “It wasn’t easy.  I had to be careful with what I told her, and to her credit?  She never asked.  She knew that I’d come back from the future, but not when, how, or anything else.  We kept my presence here a secret, obviously.  I lived a different life, under a different name.  I grew a full-on beard, dyed my hair—and my beard—and I wore glasses.  As the kids got older, I changed the dye from black to gray.  We didn’t tell them the truth until they were old enough to process it all and we were sure they could keep the secret.”</p><p>“I always knew you’d be a great Dad,” Bucky smiled at him.  “How did fatherhood treat you?  How are they kids?  Are they still…?”</p><p>Steve heard the unasked question and offered an easy smile in return.  “Fatherhood was—<em>is</em>—amazing.  I didn’t really have mine around growing up, and you lost yours when we were still practically teenagers.  Even without my own father to model myself after, I think I did alright.  The boys are both great, and yeah, still alive and kicking.  Senior citizens now, but happy with kids and grandkids of their own.  I'm actually expecting my first great-<em>great</em>-grandchild soon.”</p><p>“That’s great, Steve,” Bucky smiled, his heart swelling in his chest.</p><p>Steve grinned.  “I thought we might drop in on them at some point.  They know I went back in 2023, but both of them are smart as a whip—just like their mother.  I don’t think either one of them would die of shock if we showed up on their doorstep.  Besides,” he shrugged, “I know Jamie would love to meet his namesake.”</p><p>Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “You named your son after me?”</p><p>Steve laughed.  “Of course, Buck.  You’ve been my best friend in the world for over a hundred years.  Who else would I name my firstborn son after?  He went by Jimmy for a while when he thought Jamie sounded too young for him, but when his school buddies started calling him Mr. President after ’76, he switched to just James.  He’ll always be Jamie to me, though.”</p><p>“I’m honored, Steve,” Bucky told him honestly, pride beaming in the words.  “But please tell me you didn’t saddle him with Buchanan, too.”</p><p>Steve chuckled.  “No, nothing so cruel.  James Samuel Carter—for you and Sam.”</p><p>Bucky nodded, glad that his other friend still occupied Steve’s thoughts as well.  “What about the other boy?  Is he Dum-Dum or something?”</p><p>“Peggy would have killed me,” Steve acknowledged.  “No.  Nate is Nathaniel Anthony Carter.  I know Natasha wasn’t even Nat’s given name, but I wanted to pay tribute to her sacrifice for all of us.  Tony’s, too.”</p><p>Bucky found himself choking up.  “I think both of them would be honored.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Steve said simply.  “Clint technically beat me to the punch by having a son named Nate first, but since mine was born more than a half-century before his, I think any confusion is a moot point.  When the boys learned the truth, they wanted to know everything about all of you.  I couldn’t exactly share the stories of things that hadn’t yet happened—people who hadn't even been born yet—so I mostly regaled them with tales of the trouble you and I got into back in the old days.”</p><p>Bucky groaned.  “Really?  You had to go there, Steve?  If that’s the case, I doubt either one of them will want to see either one of us.  You’ve always had such rose-colored glasses, even about the crap we lived through back then.”</p><p>Steve shook his head.  “Actually, I think it’s time to remind you that life was better than you remember, my friend.  You’ve gone native in this century… far too much cynicism for your own good.  We had each other, which would have been enough, but honestly?  Things weren’t so bad.  Let me show you.”</p><p>Bucky just eyed him with a skeptical glare, but as soon as he realized it, he knew he was proving Steve’s point.  “Fine,” he grimaced.  “You just going to walk around looking all Captain America?”</p><p>Steve shrugged.  “I’m going to walk around looking all Steve Rogers.  No one’s looking for him, remember?  What about you?  Don’t think they’re going to be checking up on you?”</p><p>“Nah,” Bucky told him.  “They rebuilt SHIELD.  Sharon runs it now.  She pretty much scrubbed all photos and mentions of ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ that were tied to the Winter Soldier.  I’ve become something of an urban myth, actually.  Internally, my handle is the White Wolf now, but I was the Winter Soldier for so long that the code name still sticks, even among friends.  As long as I’m the one that gets the choice of answering, I don’t mind either so much now.  Sharon still reaches out for help on occasion, but whether I say yes or no is my call, and either way, I get to stay off the radar—something I got good at a very long time ago.”</p><p>Bucky smiled and added, “Besides, when people think of the Winter Soldier, everyone looks for the metal arm.” He held up the “flesh and blood” synthetic arm as he climbed into the passenger seat.  Steve climbed into the driver’s seat and reached over to touch it.  He fingers stroked over the knuckles with gentle reverence.</p><p>“I’m amazed at how far it’s come since I saw it last.  Shuri’s incredible,” Steve credited.</p><p>Bucky nodded at the mention of his friend.  “Her Highness is, at that,” he grinned.  “Pressure relays that give the impression of soft skin and tissue with normal body temperature when I have the internal holographic projector engaged.  No one would ever know it’s vibranium underneath.”</p><p>Bucky’s words caught Steve in mid-thought.  “I wanted to reach out to her… after T’Challa….”</p><p>“She would understand, Steve.  You couldn’t resurface yet for the same reason you couldn't come to me, and besides, she’s been a little busy.  Besides family obligations and running a monarchy, being the Black Panther is a fairly time-consuming job.  She does more missions with the Avengers these days than I do.”</p><p>Steve, like the rest of the world, was stunned by T’Challa’s death.  Though Shuri and the King were technically half-siblings, they were extremely close, and she no doubt felt that loss to a degree that no blood bonds could account for.  Steve was lost in his own thoughts when Bucky poked him.  “Get out of your head, Steve.  You wanted to show me what was so great about the good old days?  Well, let’s get going.  Neither one of us is exactly getting any younger,” he smirked.</p><p> </p><p>Bucky stared out at the city from his vantage point.  New York remained breathtaking from this height.  The 102 stories of the Empire State Building had long been surpassed in height, but it remained impressive in all its glory.  He said little, and Steve just let him stare.  The city had changed so much in those years since George and Winnie Barnes took Bucky and Steve to the top of this building two years after its construction.  “Remember when we bugged Mom and Dad to bring us here until we drove them insane?”</p><p>“I remember <em>you</em> did,” Steve corrected.  “You never gave a flip about this building until we went to see <em>King Kong</em> at the matinee in ’33.  You talked my Mom's ear off when she picked us up after her shift.  Those type of movies were always more your thing than mine.  The movie was okay, but seeing the Big Apple—seeing Brooklyn—from here?  I can see the appeal of being at its top.  It’s still close enough that I still feel like that teenager from back then.  The more things change….”</p><p>Bucky chuckled.  “The more they stay the same,” he completed.  “Okay, pal, you got me on this one.  Thanks, though, for the <em>King Kong</em> reference point.  If you’d busted out some <em>Sleepless in Seattle</em> stuff, I don’t think I would have been able to keep a straight face.”</p><p>Steve rolled his eyes.  “Funny guy.  Did you notice when we came in that the lobby murals were the same as they were then?  I didn’t know it, but they restored them to the original design about two years before I came out of the ice.”</p><p>Bucky hummed in agreement.  He wasn’t on ice in the same way Steve was, but he certainly wasn’t in a position to appreciate the throwback to his youth.  He just looked over and smiled at Steve, who was watching him and smiling back.</p><p> </p><p>Both super-soldiers were hoarse from spending the afternoon screaming at the top of their lungs like kids after reliving their childhoods at Coney Island.  They didn’t complain when they were stuck on the Cyclone for the better part of an hour, and the fortune-teller machine’s “prediction” was sticky in Bucky’s back pocket after the pair of them split some cotton candy before they grabbed hot dogs at Nathan’s.</p><p> </p><p>When the tour guide at Rockefeller Center led them from Radio City Music Hall to the Channel Gardens, it was clear that she thought the two of them were a couple.  Neither one of them bothered to correct her.</p><p> </p><p>They had little choice but to don apparel that did little to conceal either of their physiques, but the wardrobe change was necessitated when they went for dinner and drinks at Club 21.  The old Prohibition club held a secret wine club and a “disappearing” bar that had been little more than whispers when they were children.  Even if they'd been old enough, they could have never afforded it.  Aside from owning suits that would allow them entry, they now also had money for such a place.  It was more upscale than Bucky’s usual fare, but he had been more than willing to foot the bill until Steve slipped the server his card and beat him to it.</p><p> </p><p>When Steve wanted to do the same at the Waldorf, that was where Bucky drew the line.  He protested that they were even there.  He had his own apartment.  Hell, he had the keys to Steve’s—old Steve’s, that is—apartment as well.  Why were they at a five-star hotel at all?  Steve pouted until Bucky relented, saying that neither of them could have even looked at the place after it moved to its current Park Avenue address in ’31.  He agreed reluctantly, though they argued when Steve ultimately got his way.  That damned kicked puppy look still worked on him.  Bucky insisted, then, that they share a single room at the very least.  “One room is stupid enough.” Steve didn’t object.</p><p> </p><p>Bucky wasn’t complaining after one of the best night’s sleep in his life.  The beds were beyond anything he’d ever experienced, and the pillows felt like heaven.  No nightmares plagued him that night, and he woke up with a smile, seeing the blond man’s face illuminated by the light streaming in through the curtains.  The body was that of Captain America, who’d slept on the hard ground of Europe with Bucky and the Howling Commandos during the war, but the face—despite its serum-induced fullness—was still that same boy Bucky had watched grow up beside him, tenacious and stubborn, even as every illness and ailment tried to separate them.  Bucky’s heart ached as he remembered that all-too-familiar fear like it was yesterday.  He remembered helping him through his asthma attacks, pneumonia, and all the rest, thanking God when the punk survived.</p><p>They enjoyed breakfast at the hotel before spending wandering around the city.  Central Park no longer held the memory of losing Steve.  Instead, he was now walking through it with Steve beside him.  An afternoon at the Museum of the City of New York proved to be the greatest series of flashbacks (in a good way), as the contents they had first experienced had been replaced by exhibits that chronicled the city during the museum’s opening in 1932.</p><p>They grabbed a late lunch at Wo Hop in Manhattan’s Chinatown.  After it opened in 1938, it was the first Chinese food either of them had ever had, and though it was a hole in the wall that seemed like Guy Fieri’s usual fare, it remained the greatest Chinese food either of them had eaten since, though whether that was a true statement of its quality or simple familiarity remained unclear.</p><p>The sun shone down upon them, and thanks to superhuman endurance, neither minded walking all day.  The Apollo Theater predated both of them by a couple of years, but both remembered hearing when Louis Armstrong played there, just like a young Ella Fitzgerald at Minton’s Playhouse when it opened, just a few years before the war.  They strolled past the original site of the Cotton Club, amazed at how the race relations were so different now than when they had been when they were children.  While in East Harlem, they grabbed a slice of thin-crust from Patsy’s before finally taking the subway back to the hotel.</p><p> </p><p>Steve was lying in bed atop the covers in a tank top and a pair of boxers, sketchbook in hand as he made drawings of some of the sights they’d taken in over the past few days.  Bucky had showered in the bathroom and was standing in the doorframe, simply watching him draw as he had since they were boys.  In that moment, he was again no longer Captain America.  He was just Steve Rogers, and he was never more so than when Steve realized he was being watched.  He looked up and met Bucky’s gaze with a smile.  Realizing that the older man was standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs and a towel over his shoulder, though, Steve’s eyes darted furtively back to his artwork.</p><p>“I was thinking before we leave tomorrow, I might go get a haircut,” Bucky remarked, moving over to his own bed.  “Sharon does her thing, but if anyone remembers the Winter Soldier from back in the day, they’re likely to remember what I looked like with longer hair.  If we’re going to go somewhat incognito, I should probably look a little less memorable.”</p><p>Steve looked over at him after Bucky slid beneath the covers of his own bed.  “Hate to break it to you, jerk, but that ugly mug of yours is the same, whether the hair’s long or short.” His response was Bucky throwing a pillow at his head with enough force that it toppled him over onto the mattress.  Both of them just started laughing in response as Steve tidied up, grabbing his pencils from the far side of the bed while Bucky picked up the sketchbook laying on the carpet between them.  As he did, Bucky noticed an earlier page that showed himself as he’d looked just before the Army.  He closed it quickly—before Steve noticed—and handed it back to him.</p><p>Steve put it with his pencils and tucked one arm under his pillow, turning to face his best friend as he prepared to drift off to sleep.  “For the record, though, I think you look good just the same.” Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  He barely managed to contain some strange croaking sound.</p><p>As those blue eyes stared at him so openly, all Bucky could manage was, “Thank you, Steve.  You were right.  Some of the old days were pretty good after all.”</p><p>“They were,” Steve agreed.  “We didn’t have much then, but we had each other.”</p><p>Bucky’s throat tightened at the poignant words, and he replied as if on auto-pilot.  “That was all we ever really needed.”</p><p>Steve just smiled.  “Goodnight, Buck.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Steve.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This my first "Stucky" fic.  Please let me know what you think.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>